I Dream Of
by KatieAlice
Summary: Sam has violent dreams. Wee!chesters. Sam's 4, Dean's 8. Rated T for child abuse. CHAPTER 7 NOW UP!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Supernatural, doesn't life suck?**

**OK, This will be a chapter fic but I have no idea how long or short it will be. I have a sort-of ending in mind but have no idea how to get there so help via review would be appreciated. This story is a wee!chester fic about a John-imposter visiting Sam's dreams. At this moment in time, the real John is away but I can bring him in if anyone wants him.**

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Eight year old Dean lay on his bed, drifting in and out of sleep. He was dreaming about owning his own car when he found himself waking up to the sounds of his little brother having another nightmare. He looked at the clock on his bedside table. It read two thirty. Dean sighed, got out of bed and stretched. Then he made his way over to Sam's bed and sat down on it. He reached out his hand and touched his little brother's face. He sighed again.

Their father was still out on a hunt. He didn't know when he'd be back. John had left three days prior, giving the usual orders. Not to open the door to anyone, if anyone breaks in, shoot first ask questions later and most important, look after four year old Sammy. So here Dean was, in the middle of the night doing what in normal families the parents do – soothing Sammy's nightmares. He caressed Sam's cheek with his thumb. He felt warm. His face was screwed up and he was muttering disconnected words.

"It's alright, Sammy. I'm here," he said gently.

Sam opened his eyes and looked straight into Dean's. He reached up and grabbed Dean's shirt, whimpering. He had nightmares every night this past month. It pained Dean to see him in such distress – he felt so helpless.

"Dean?" Sam trembled. There was fear in his eyes. "When's Daddy coming back?"

"Sometime tomorrow, Sammy," he lied.

"Is Daddy alright?" Sam looked at his big brother, seeking reassurance. Dean stared questioningly at his little brother.

"Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be?" Dean said in a falsely cheery voice. "Dad always makes sure he's safe." The truth was that their father often disappeared on hunts for days at a time and they had no way of knowing if he was hurt. But John always returned from his hunts in one piece and Dean didn't see why this time should be any different.

But Sam hadn't meant his physical wellbeing. Many times now he had looked into his father's eyes and saw sadness lingering there. He wanted his father to be happy when he looked at Sam but couldn't help but feel responsible in some way for his father's sadness. Then the dreams had started. Dreams of fire and blood. They scared Sam. Sometimes his father's face would appear in the dreams, telling Sam it was all his fault. "What?" he thought. "What was all his fault?" He had asked his brother this and Dean had told him that nothing was his fault. Dean had been alarmed at what was in his brother's dreams. Neither Dean nor John had ever told him the truth about his mother's death. When Sam asked where Mary was, John had told him that she had died when he was born. John did not know about Sam's nightmares, being out most nights hunting.

"Why does daddy look at me different?" Sam asked his brother. "Why is he so sad? Did I do something wrong? Doesn't he love me?"

"Of course daddy loves you, Sammy. He loves us both. He just misses mommy a lot. Go to sleep, Sammy." Sam gave Dean a weak smile and closed his eyes though he did not fall asleep again for a long time after Dean had gone back to his own bed.

The next morning came and Dean started to worry. The fact was that John should have been back by the previous night and Dean was trying to convince himself as well as Sam that he would be back the following day. He tried to keep Sam occupied with the TV and board games, making sure they were both in the living room near the phone in case their father called them.

At seven o-clock they gave up and Dean took Sam upstairs for his bath and put him to bed. Then, he returned downstairs for another hour before heading to bed himself.

Around one thirty, Sam began to toss in his sleep. Dean immediately woke and stumbled towards Sam's bed in the dark. "Sammy," he said softly, smoothing his brother's bangs back off of his forehead, but Sam didn't wake up. "Sammy," he said louder and shook his shoulder. Sam still did not wake.

"_It's all your fault!" his father screamed, pushing Sam against the wall – hard._

Sam yelped in his sleep and arched his back slightly in pain. Dean's eyes widened.

"_You want to know the truth about your mother's death?" John yelled slapping his son across the face. "She died because of you! You want to know how?" He grabbed Sam's head firmly and as he did, electricity seemed to flow from his hands to his son's temples and images flashed across Sam's eyes. Sam was lying on his back looking up at his mother. Their was a gash going right along her stomach and her eyes were open, staring down at him. Then, she burst into flames and Sam was suddenly pulled from the vision back to his father's face. "You killed your own mother." He whispered. "I'll kill you, you little murderer!" As Sam slid down the wall, his father kicked him viciously in the stomach then picked him up and slammed his head against the wall and hit him again…_

Sam was curled up in a tight ball in his bed, crying in obvious pain and fear. "No, no stop!" he cried through his tears. Dean was crying himself, trying to wake his brother up, to stop whatever it was from hurting Sam further. "Sammy!" he finally yelled. "Sammy, wake up!"

Sam took a last, shuddering gasp and opened his eyes to the sound of his name. "Dean?" he asked tentatively after a moment of silence. Dean switched on the lamp next to Sam's bed, looked at him and jumped. There, on Sam's face, was the unmistakable red mark of a hand print.

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**So... what do you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, I told one reviewer that I intended to update yesterday but I went to see the solicitor and then I went shopping and then had pancakes and by the evening I was so tired that I completely forgot. Sorry! I don't really know when my next update will be as I am not sure where to go to in this story next and it may take some time. This chapter is a little shorter than the first and less dramatic but I hope I don't bore you silly. Read and Review!**

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Dean traced his fingers softly over the handprint on Sam's face, his mouth open slightly in confusion. Sam trembled and sat up to hug his brother. Dean held Sam while he sobbed into his shoulder for half an hour. When he started rubbing his back Sam tensed.

"What is it, Sammy?" Dean whispered.

"My back hurts," Sam mumbled, exhausted. Dean let go of Sam and looked into his eyes.

"Does anything else hurt?" He asked anxiously.

"My tummy… and my head," he replied slowly.

"Anything else?"

Sam started to shake his head, then stopped – shaking his head made it hurt more and made everything begin to spin. "No." he said.

"Sammy, what did you dream about? What did this to you?" The older brother asked.

Sam shuddered slightly. He just wanted to forget it but looking up into his brother's imploring eyes he bit his lip and took a deep breath. "It was Daddy," he said shakily. "He was really angry with me, because of what happened to Mommy that night."

Dean startled at this revelation. Did Sam know? Did he know what happened to their mother?

"Um, Sammy? Tell me what you know about what happened to Mommy," He said softly.

And Sam told him. Every detail of what he had seen in his dream.

Dean studied his little brother for a moment. Sam had just told him what had happened that night in more detail than he himself remembered or that their father had told him. He swallowed.

"How do you know this?" He asked.

"Daddy… showed me. He grabbed my head and then I saw it." Sam looked miserably at the floor. "Is it true?"

Dean looked at Sam. The one person that he and their father had tried to protect from danger, and the truth was hurt and very much aware of the secret. He sighed. "It's true," he said heavily.

"I didn't mean to," said Sam.

"Didn't mean to what?" asked Dean, curiously.

"Daddy said that I killed her but I swear I didn't mean to, I'm sorry!" Sam cried.

"Sammy, you didn't kill Mom," Dean said, surprised, "You were only a baby – babies can't do anything!"

"But Daddy said-"

"Sammy, that wasn't Dad, it was a dream. Dreams aren't real!" _But then how the hell did Sammy get hurt?_ Dean asked himself. _Better yet, how could Sam know the things he knows if it wasn't really Dad?_ _But why would Dad blame Sammy, why would he hurt him?_ John had been hunting down the supernatural for four years trying to find the "thing" that killed Mary, and right now he was on a hunt so why would he manifest in Sam's dreams, telling him the truth and then blaming him for it? _It doesn't make any sense!_

Just then, Dean was ripped from his thoughts by the sound of a key turning in a lock downstairs and the opening and shutting of a door. Sam buried into Dean's chest, trembling uncontrollably as they heard footsteps on the stairs.

John was home.

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**Any good?**


	3. Chapter 3

**OK, here is the third chapter, up earlier than I predicted. I think it's slightly longer than the second chapter. Just to let you know, my half term break will be over soon and I will have to go back to college on Wednesday so either I finish the story before then or there will be longer between updates from then on. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, by the way. It's because of your encouragement that this chapter is up earlier than I planned. Keep reviewing, I love to know what you think about this story.**

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John was back late. He knew that. He was exhausted from the hunt but he also knew that he had to check on his boys before he collapsed onto his bed. He wanted to see Dean, his obedient little soldier whose eyes were always alight with excitement and happiness which always rubbed off on John. He was ashamed that he didn't feel like that when he looked at Sammy. There was always sadness in that little boy's eyes that John knew he was responsible for. He loved his sons the same but when he looked at Sam all he could see was the terrible tragedy of that night and supposed that Sam could feel his father's pain. He worried about Sam, wanted to protect him from all the evil out there by leaving him in the care of his little soldier and hunting down the supernatural for days on end. It was not the way he would have chosen to raise his children but how else could he avenge his wife's death? He stretched and started up the stairs.

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The footsteps got louder and louder and they seemed to Sam like footsteps of doom. He clutched his brother tightly, waiting for the monster to rear its ugly head. His breathing became faster and tears slipped from his eyes to be soaked up by Dean's T-shirt. He gulped as the footsteps stopped, right outside their room.

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John turned the handle and pushed the door open expecting to see his sons in their beds, lost in a peaceful sleep. What he did not expect to see was his sons huddled on Sam's bed, wide-eyed and fearful as they looked at the man, their father, standing in the doorway.

"Boys? What's wrong?" he asked. After all, he had no idea how many nights Sam had suffered from nightmares while he was gone, Dean had never told him. It was the boys' secret at Sam's request.

John stepped into the room and flicked on the light switch, giving better light than the bedside lamp alone. When he saw the handprint on Sam's face, too big to be from Dean's own hand, he gasped and started towards his sons. "Who did this?" he thundered, "How did you let this happen, Dean!" he shouted at his eldest. Then he turned to Sam. What happened next was a complete surprise to him.

Sam let go of Dean, scooted backwards off the bed and landed on the floor on his bruised back. He cried out in pain.

"Sammy!" Dean and John cried at the same time. John moved around the bed towards Sam but Sam screamed, crawling away from him, his T-shirt slipping upwards to reveal large fresh bruises on his abdomen and back, and he sat, in the corner of the room, crying and shaking in the foetal position.

Instead of going to Sam, John turned and took hold of the front of Dean's T-shirt, pulling him forwards and bending down so they were face to face. "You were supposed to be looking after him, Dean! How the hell did you let this happen! Why is Sammy covered in bruises!" he roared. "You'd better tell me what's going on or I swear to God-"

"I DON'T KNOW!" Dean screamed. His outburst shocked his father so much he let go of Dean and stared at him. Dean seemed a little shocked himself and it was with much self control that he carried on in a quieter voice. "Sammy… Sammy had another nightmare," he said. John looked at him quizzically. "He gets them all the time… when you're not here. Only… only this time he woke up hurt."

John forced himself to be calm and civil towards his son. "And what was he dreaming about?" he asked.

At first, Dean didn't answer. He was afraid of John's reaction but looking into his eyes he knew he had to go on. "He was dreaming about… you. You were hurting him and blaming him for Mom's death and he knows! He knows what happened, Dad!"

"You told him?" John asked.

"No!" Dean replied. "The dream-you sorta showed him somehow. Dad, he thinks it's his fault!"

They both looked at Sam who had begun rocking back and forth, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Dean, tell your brother that I'm not going to hurt him. He'll listen to you," John said finally.

Dean stepped off the bed and walked slowly to his brother and crouched down in front of him. Sammy continued rocking and didn't open his eyes. It was as if he wasn't aware of his brother at all.

"Sammy?" No response. "Sammy, it's me, Dean." After a few moments the rocking stopped and Sam opened his eyes

"Dean?"

"Yeah, little brother, it's me."

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No Sammy, he didn't. And he won't hurt you either, I promise." Sam looked up at his brother before embracing him in a furious hug. "It wasn't really Dad in your dream, Sammy, you have to know that."

"Then what was it?

Dean looked over his shoulder at his father who took a step forward.

"We don't know yet, Sammy," John said, "but we're sure as hell gonna find out."

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**Ta-da! Sorry, not much of a cliffhanger this time!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright, this one's a bit of a shortie because I'm not very good at drawing out the angst. It is however my second post today as I am anxious to post as much as I can before I a) run out of storyline b) have to go back to college. Well anyway, I hope you enjoy and send me a review if you have the time.**

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The three of them didn't get any more sleep that night. John had decided that for Sam's own safety he should try to stay awake and both John and Dean did not go to sleep for his sake. John had tried and failed to make Dean go to bed but Dean was furiously determined to help keep an eye on his little brother. So it was that they all sat in the living room the rest of the night, John poring over his journal and the two boys quietly entertaining themselves with some paper and crayons that belonged to Sam.

Although Sam was now pretty sure that his father was there to help him, not hurt him, he couldn't help but quivering slightly whenever John drew too close. John was aware of this and although Sam hadn't said anything his father kept his distance. So Sam and Dean sat on the floor drawing pictures on one side of the room while John sat in an armchair, researching on the other.

At daybreak though, John was so exhausted from the recent hunt that he barely felt himself nodding off. Dean, who had grown tired of drawing with Sam a couple of hours before, had settled himself on the couch when he too, found himself unable to resist sleep any longer and closed his eyes.

When Sam looked up, he saw his father and brother both sleeping deeply and, scared though he was and feeling so tired himself, wondered if it wouldn't hurt too much just to close his own eyes just for ten minutes. He didn't even bother to move and curled up where he was on the floor and was asleep within a minute.

_His father's hands were around his throat, cutting off the air supply to Sam's lungs and making his head feel like it was about to explode…_

John and dean awoke suddenly to the sound of gasping and spluttering. It took them both a moment to realise what had happened. All three of them had fallen asleep and now Sam was choking.

"Sammy!" they both shouted. John leapt out of the armchair and raced across the room to where his little boy was struggling to breathe.

"_Face it, Samuel," his father said quite calmly as he gripped his son around the neck. "You truly deserve to die. After all, your mother wouldn't be dead if you were never born, would she?"_

John grabbed Sam, hauling him into a sitting position and proceeded to shake him, trying to wake him up.

"_In a way, I'm doing you a favour!" his father laughed bitterly. "If you had lived he'd only take you and turn you evil like himself and more people would suffer at your hands. He'll take away everyone you love to get to you, you'll spend the rest of your life a miserable, lonely murderer. It's my responsibility to stop you doing anymore damage!"_

Tears came to John's eyes as he watched his son being strangled to death by some unknown force and he continued his desperate attempts to wake Sam. Dean watched, horrified, behind John as Sam gave a few more struggled breaths before he shuddered and went limp in his father's arms.

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**Aaaaaah Sammy noooooo!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! I am soooo sorry that I have not updated for over a week. I HATE COLLEGE! Phew, needed to get that off my chest. Well, here it is, chapter 5 for all those people who haven't given up on me! Remember, I find reviews very helpful and you are even welcome to moan at me for taking so long!**

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Everything was quiet, except for John and Dean's breathing. Sam was still in John's arms, not moving, breathing, or doing anything at all. It was still a shock to see Sam like this but after just a millisecond, John lay him down flat on his back and began compressions.

_Sam was scared. He had suddenly found himself awake and standing in the living room. The only problem was, he was now staring down at his own limp body lying on the floor while his father and brother leant over it, trying to bring him back to life._

"_Dad?" he asked tentatively, as he watched his father breathe into his lifeless body. "Dean?" he trembled._

But they could not hear him, could not see him. It was one thing to admit that Sam's heart and breathing had stopped, but quite another to admit that Sam was dead. They would not accept it, so John carried on compressions while Dean looked on tearfully and that was why they could not see him.

_Sam was confused. Death was too large a thing for any four-year-old to comprehend. Even knowing what he knew about his mother, he still did not understand what had just happened to him._

"Come on, Sammy, breathe!" John commanded, furiously pressing down on his son's chest. "Breathe, dammit!" he yelled and Dean flinched away from the harshness in his father's voice.

"Please, Sammy," Dean pleaded, "please be all right." He gently reached for Sam's hand and held it in his own.

"_Dean, I'm here, I'm right here!" Sam cried. He had never seen his brother like this before. Dean had always been his comforter, his protector, and now here he was, falling apart in front of Sam and he could do nothing to stop it. He put his hand on Dean's shoulder, trying to offer any comfort he could._

Dean shivered slightly but didn't look up. John breathed into Sam's body again. "Don't you do this, Sammy, you wake up, do you hear me? That's an order!" He yelled.

_Sam, even at such a young age, had never disobeyed his father. Dean had told him to always follow their dad's orders because it would keep them safe. But now, he just didn't know what to do. He could hear the fear in his father's voice and it frightened him. He was helpless, useless, unable to do anything but watch what was happening. He didn't want to watch. He didn't want to listen. Not anymore. He turned his back on the scene and sat down, bringing his knees up to his chin and putting his hands over his ears. He closed his eyes._

_The sounds of his father and brother were muffled, not blocked out completely. He tried to ignore them, forget this predicament that he was in and hope that when he opened his eyes again and uncovered his ears he would be safe in his bed with his Dad and Dean smiling down at him. It didn't work. Everything was just the same. He hugged his knees and fell into despair, tears running down his cheeks._

_Sammy…_

_Someone was calling him. Their voice was distant, echoing._

_Sammy…_

_There it was again, the same voice, but louder._

_Sammy…_

_They sounded really close that time, whoever it was._

_There was a blinding flash of light. It began to pulsate, getting brighter until all Sam could see was white, no trace left of the living room in which he had just been sitting in._

"_Sammy." Sam looked up to see a beautiful blonde-haired lady dressed all in white standing in front of him. She seemed to have an aura about her, all different colours radiating from her body._

_Sam recognised her. She was different from how she looked in the photos he had seen of her but it was definitely her._

"_Mommy?" _

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**Once again, I am so sorry for taking so long! So was it worth the wait or did I bore you all silly?**


	6. Chapter 6

**OK. Well, didn't get around to finishing the chapter on Sunday so I took some time over it today on my day off (even though I should be practising for a play that I am performing in tomorrow, oops!). So, here it is! Reviews make my day and they really help.**

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**Last time…**

_Sam recognised her. She was different from how she looked in the photos he had seen of her but it was definitely her._

"_Mommy?"_

**And now…**

"_Yes, sweetheart," Mary said, looking down at her beloved son._

_She really was beautiful, Sam thought, staring at her, taking in her form._

"_Mommy, are you an angel?" he asked, awestruck. She nodded, smiling._

"_Dean said you were, he tells me lots of things!" the little boy exclaimed._

"_Dean is a very smart older brother." Mary told him._

"_Where are we?" Sam asked, squinting at the brightness._

"_We're in Heaven, darling," she replied._

"_Oh," Sam said, frowning._

"_What's wrong, my love?" Mary asked._

"_Well, it's just, it's so white and, and I thought there'd be more…people," he said, looking around to see if more people would appear. Mary laughed slightly, after he said this._

"_Sammy, Heaven is a very big place and not all of it is white. There are more people elsewhere. Right now we are on the edge._

"_Why?" Sammy asked inquisitively. Mary looked at him meaningfully._

"_Because, Sam, you have a choice."_

"_What kind of choice?" he asked, confused. Mary bent down so that her face was closer to her son's._

"_Sam, it was not supposed to be your time to come here with me. Something has interfered with the course of events on earth, events involving our family. It came to you in your dreams, hurt you and is the reason that you are here with me now. But you don't have to stay with me yet."_

"_I don't?"_

"_That is your choice. You can choose to stay with me now and never go back and you will always be safe here. Or, you can go back to your father and brother who need you and love you and together you can stop the thing from moving on to other families." She paused, looking at him. "I think you need to go back, Sammy," she told him._

"_But I want to stay here with you!" Sam cried. This feeling he had being with his mother, it was so similar to the feeling he had with Dean. It made him feel safe._

"_Sammy," Mary said, kneeling down and cupping Sam's face in her hands, "I will always be here. But you still have a life on earth, a life your father and brother are still fighting for. They're fighting for you. They're not ready to give up on you and you are not ready to let them go. I can see it inside you, the conflict."_

"_I'm scared. What if more bad things happen?"_

"_I cannot promise you that everything will be alright. What I do know is, everyday that you are on earth you get older, stronger and wiser and you will always have someone that cares about you, no matter what choices you make in your life." She reached out and embraced her small boy, then she whispered, "You have been given a second chance at life. That is a very special thing. Don't throw it away."_

"_I want to go back, Mommy," Sam whispered back to her. It was a hard decision. He had just met his mother, talked to her for the first time, but he did miss his father and Dean…especially Dean. She nodded and kissed him on top of his head before standing up once more._

"_I think you're doing the right thing, Sammy," she said before a bright light engulfed them and, when it had faded, she was gone and the white was replaced by blackness._

Sam gave a sudden gasp and opened his eyes. He was lying flat on his back in the living room. His chest felt tender and achy, his neck bruised and his vision was blurry. Above him he could see the outline of two figures, the larger of them suddenly pulling him up into a fierce hug.

"Daddy?" he said, wonderingly.

"Yeah, son. Yeah, it's me."

He felt another hand being placed on his back. He knew who it was. "Dean." Dean didn't say anything, but leant forward and joined in the hug. Sam was happy again. He knew that this was where he belonged now.

"I saw Mommy," he said suddenly and John and Dean glanced at each other. Tears sprung to John's eyes and threatened to fall. If Sam had seen Mary then he must have been… John desperately wanted to ask if Mary was all right, that she was happy and still…beautiful. But he knew that he couldn't ask his four-year-old that. It was selfish to ask Sam about Mary when his top priority should be Sam himself. No, it was too soon. He wondered if he should even ask at all or just wait and see if Sammy wanted to talk about her. Yes, that was right, it should be up to Sammy.

John picked up his little boy and carried him over to the couch to lie him down. His poor son, battered and bruised. It made his heart ache. No four-year-old should have to go through that and it made him all the more determined to put an end to whatever the hell it was that was doing this. He looked down into his boy's eyes and for once he didn't see sadness – the sadness that he had put there. Instead, he saw something that made his aching heart suddenly soar with happiness – he saw Mary.

Overhead, the lights flickered.

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**What did you think?**


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay. I have not posted in soooooooo very long. I can only apologise a hundred times. I'm so sorry! I don't know if you will like this chapter - it's a bit ... blah - but an update's an update so please feel free to review and tell me how good or bad this chapter is!**

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The exhaustion and relief that John had felt only moments before vanished as his body once again flooded with adrenaline. Something was coming and his first thought was that it was the thing that had killed Mary. But then he heard his very own voice talking to him and he knew that this was something different. A demon, but not THE demon. 

"Hello, John," it said and John turned from his boys to face his duplicate. Dean and Sam stared at the two of them, confused and scared but Dean bravely took Sam's hand, whispering in his ear not to worry.

"Dean," said John, "take your brother upstairs. Now."

"Well, well, well," said the demon, smiling slightly, "looks like Johnny doesn't know what he wants."

"What are you talking about?" snarled John.

"You spend every hour of the day thinking of your wife, wishing she hadn't died, wishing your youngest was never born, hoping and praying that someone would take him away before he turns into one of the things that you hunt and then… you bring him back."

John walked across the room and stood protectively between the stairs and the demon.

"You hurt my son? I swear before you can touch him again I will send you back to Hell where you belong."

"You sound surprised," it said, "but let me tell you that I only did what I did because you wanted it to happen."

John looked outraged.

"I could _never_ want my son to be hurt, to be killed!"

"Well, you see, you're wrong about that because, on some level, you did. Otherwise I wouldn't be here. Don't you remember the sleepless nights when you lay in bed, thinking that Sam was the reason your beloved wife had died, that she got in the way of something coming for him? You thought, maybe there is evil inside that little boy. But the real evil in him is the missing love. These past few years, you couldn't help but look at him differently and maybe, just maybe, if you had treated your son better instead of trying to find evil inside him he may have grown up to love you. But, because this has happened, he will never give you the respect that you crave as he gets older. If he even lives to grow up. Just think about it – if you had loved him from the start he would have grown up to be a good son, good brother, even a good father one day. But you chose the other path – to obsess about the one that killed you wife, search for evil in every dark place and on some unconscious level, blame your son for taking away what you loved the most. You are facing two more paths – carry on blaming him and watch as it kills him or makes him resent you for ever, making all the wrong choices - or treat him like a proper son and watch him struggle as he fights with the evil inside him, the evil that you put there. Maybe it will win, maybe it won't, but he will never have the same chance that he would have had if you hadn't blamed him."

John was shaking, but not out of anger. His fault. It was all his own fault.

"You see, John. It's not really me that Sam should be afraid of. I am only a mirror image of you and I am here to show you that you can change, but even then, Sam only has a slim chance. He may conquer the evil if you learn to love him as you should, but I think I already know what path you are going to take. You will carry on, as you have these past four years, hunting and grieving, truly believing that revenge is the right choice. You will drive your son away and though he will try, he will never have a normal life."

"You sure do spout a load of crap, you demons. You just read things in my mind and twisted them so you can do damage to my family!" John spat.

The demon smiled again.

"Maybe so. Perhaps this was all a test. The question is, who was being tested and did they pass? You just think about that and I'll see you again soon."

This time, it was John's turn to smile.

"I'm not so sure about that," he said. He looked up and the demon followed his gaze. Directly above it, painted on the ceiling, was a devil's trap. John grinned.

"Gotcha."

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**Okay, so I stole the ending of this chapter from out of the first season! I was running out of ideas! I love reviews so if you have time, please click!**


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